


Faithless

by SaraJaye



Series: Shadowed Prisms: The Cindered Shadows AUs [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CSAU1, Corrupt Church of Seiros, Fever, Following orders vs following your heart, Gen, Medieval Medicine, Moral Dilemmas, Observant Edelgard, Potions, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 11:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25349596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/pseuds/SaraJaye
Summary: Edelgard and Randahl bear witness to even more corruption within the church. For Randahl, this further drives home the point that the Rhea he knew is long dead. For Edelgard, it only further proves the church must be eliminated.
Series: Shadowed Prisms: The Cindered Shadows AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835785
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	Faithless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sorakh28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorakh28/gifts).



> Randahl is an FE-ized version of Masaki Andoh from Super Robot Wars. did the shaping and headcanons, I'm just borrowing him.

Across Fodlan, there are two main ways of healing the body: the faith-based white magic of the Church, and the herbs and tonics known for their use across territories such as Duscur and Brigid. Edelgard, of course, knows there have been many contested and ultimately forbidden methods of treatment throughout history. Anything that could threaten the Church's stronghold over Fodlan is deemed "too dangerous" or "a desacration of the body." Autopsies, means of seeing inside the body to determine the seriousness of an illness or injury, most surgeries.

Edelgard has never given much thought to medicine; the healing arts are not her strongest forte. But this morning she found Cyril collapsed in a heap in the second-floor dormitory hallway, burning with fever. She placed him in Manuela's capable hands and went to class, giving it little more thought for the rest of the morning and afternoon.

It's late in the evening when she actually begins to worry. Edelgard has never thought much of Cyril due to his unsettling fixation on Lady Rhea, whom Edelgard has never trusted and resents more and more as time goes on. He doesn't seem to care for her, either, though the same could be said for anyone who isn't Lady Rhea or possibly Shamir.

But he's only a child, he was burning up, and even Manuela seemed unsure of herself when she promised she would take care of him.

"Lady Edelgard?" She turns around to see Randahl at the stairwell, fidgeting and shuffling his feet. "I just asked Rhea how Cyril was and she told me not to concern myself with it. I mean, he and I aren't exactly _friends,_ but I heard he was really sick and I just want to make sure he'll be okay. And since you're the one who found him..."

"I don't know either." Edelgard closes her eyes, exhaling in frustration. "I'm not surprised Lady Rhea said that, though. She doesn't like to explain anything if she can help it." _Pot, meet kettle,_ she thinks, _you're not exactly the most forthcoming either, Edelgard._ Not now, she mentally snaps at the scolding little voice in her head. "Let's go to the infirmary and ask Manuela."

When they arrive at the infirmary, Cyril is still unconscious, breathing shallowly and letting out the occasional pained moan. A damp cloth rests atop his forehead, and Lady Rhea is standing at his bedside with her usual sickeningly serene smile.

"Lady Edelgard. Randahl. What a surprise," she says. "But as I said before, Randahl, you need not worry. Cyril will survive. The power of the Goddess is strong." Manuela frowns, but keeps her lips shut; Randahl narrows his eyes at Rhea, and Edelgard bristles.

"Did he wake up at any point during the day?" she asks, already knowing what the answer will be. Lady Rhea shakes her head, and Randahl turns away from her, shoulders going tense and his hand forming a fist. "I see."

"Rest is the best thing for him right now," Rhea says much too gently. "Fevers can be difficult, but rest, sleep, and the power of the goddess have healed worse illnesses before. Do not worry." She smiles again, and Edelgard fights back the urge to retch. "I must be going now."

As soon as she leaves, Manuela exhales harshly, her brow furrowed, and takes out a small kit. There's a small pouch of herbs, several pieces of willow bark, and two dried figs.

"The sap from this bark mixed with these herbs and this fruit produces a syrup that brings down fever very quickly," she explains. "But Lady Rhea will not allow it. She claims Cyril is allergic to willow bark." Randahl gives a frustrated sigh and clenches his fist again.

"He doesn't _have_ any allergies," he hisses. "I know this because I asked him once when it was my turn in the kitchen, and I was going around making sure everyone could eat what I made without getting sick. At worst, he'll probably hate how the sryup tastes, but it won't hurt him." He shakes his head, a pained look in his eyes. "It's an excuse, Professor Manuela."

"She feels threatened by any medical techniques that threaten the superiority of the goddess's power," Edelgard says curtly, just barely stifling herself from saying _so-called power_ as she knows Manuela is a believer. Manuela looks down at her supplies, then up at Edelgard and Randahl in confusion.

"But _why,_ though? Lady Rhea has never objected to such things in the past, at least not that I know of." Edelgard exchanges a look with Randahl. They both know why, but telling Manuela what they know won't change the situation at hand.

Cyril begins to stir just then, whimpering Lady Rhea's name in a fearful tone. Manuela quickly moves to replace the cloth on his head, and Randahl approaches his bedside.

"Hey...are you feeling any better?" Cyril suddenly grabs for Randahl's hand. "Ah!"

"Lady Rhea..."

"Um...I'm sorry, but it's just me," Randahl murmurs in embarrassment. "Rhea came in while you were out cold. I'm sorry she didn't stay." So is Edelgard, at least in this moment. For all Cyril gushes about the woman, she's sure she doesn't care two whits about him.

"Are you feeling better?" Randahl asks again, and Cyril shakes his head.

"Everything hurts. Is this what dying feels like?" he mutters. Maneula's jaw tightens as she clenches her fist, exhaling sharply as she looks between Cyril and her supplies. _Lady Rhea will not allow it,_ echoes Manuela's voice, and Edelgard's anger mounts. What if Cyril is sicker than Lady Rhea realizes? What if only healing him with the so-called goddess has only made things worse?

"There's something that can help with that," Randahl says. "But it's up to Professor Manuela." Manuela sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I shouldn't disobey Lady Rhea's orders." But her tone is weak and unsure, she knows what the right thing to do is but her fear of offending Lady Rhea won't disappear. Edelgard presses the kit into Manuela's free hand.

"He needs it." Manuela looks back at the feverish child, takes a deep breath, and sets up the supplies on her desk. Edelgard gives a sigh of relief, and Randahl immediately moves to help her. All Edelgard can do is sit beside Cyril's bed and take his hand.

"I know I'm not Lady Rhea," she says, "but if you need to, I don't mind."

"Thanks." He coughs, kicking the covers off of himself, and for a split second Edelgard remembers another time she sat by someone's bedside, holding his hand as he suffered through a fever. But she pushes the thought away as quickly as it came on, and soon Manuela and Randahl are finished with the medicine.

"Drink this," she instructs as Randahl helps Cyril sit up. He obediently drinks it down, followed by several sips of cool water Manuela offers him. He makes a face, and Manuela nods sympathetically. "I know, it tastes awful, but it will help." Cyril coughs again, taking another sip of water.

"Lady Rhea never makes me take stuff like this," he mutters. "Are you sure it'll work?" Randahl closes his eyes and inhales, and Edelgard feels even sorrier for Cyril as she realizes he doesn't simply worship Lady Rhea, but is more or less completely dependent on her.

"I've made this syrup for many other students and teachers in the past, and they've always recovered. I've even made it for Shamir. Ask her if you don't believe me." Cyril bites his lip, lies back down, and curls up a little. He shivers, and Edelgard covers him with the blanket.

"Don't tell Lady Rhea, okay? She wanted to be the one to take care of me, I don't want her to think I don't need her anymore." Manuela exchanges a look with Edelgard and Randahl.

"Our lips are sealed," Edelgard promises.

"Thanks."

"I'll keep watch over him tonight," Manuela says. "You two go on to bed, it's getting late." Edelgard nods, she and Randahl bid Manuela and Cyril goodnight before leaving the infirmary. Once they're outside, she takes Randahl's hand and he squeezes tightly.

"She wasn't always like this," he whispers, his voice tight with pain, and Edelgard wishes she knew what to say or do in this moment. She can only squeeze back, and he forces a smile. "I'll be fine."

"The important thing is that Cyril will be okay," she says.

Her thoughts are heavy and jumbled as she falls asleep that night. Tonight proved even further that the Church is a noose around Fodlan's neck, and Lady Rhea is pulling it tighter and tighter as time goes on.

_But am I alone enough to cut the rope?_


End file.
